"A conversation with Miss Death" 2

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A/N: Emily Dickinson x Reader

PART TWO PARTY PEOPLE! Alright, alright, alright! I'm so stoked to write this, not gonna lie!

I really enjoyed making part one and it was so funny seeing you guys simp over Miss Death, so, we're bringing the goddess back people!

Thank you for 235-238k! You guys are insane, i love you all ❤️

I hope we all enjoy this and I hope every single one of you have a good day or night, depending on where you are. I love you all and let's do this! <3

HERE WE GO!

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Emily's POV:

I sit at my desk, staring at the paper as I freeze for a moment. Why can't I write? I can't write! That is all I ever want to do, is write. And I hate the fact that I can't write. I just... I feel like I can't breathe. I sigh at this, letting my shoulders fall in disappointment. I decide to get up and I head downstairs seeing Maggie.

"Hi..." I greet her upsetly, she gives me a small smile while she bakes something, picking up on my sadness.

"What's wrong, deary?" She asks me, I glance at her.

"I'm empty." I reply, letting out a small sigh. She pouts for a moment and glances at me while trying to focus on whatever she was baking.

"Aw, no. Is there a reason for that?" She questions me, I sigh at this and shrug. Whining before resting my arms on the table and letting my head rest on my arms. She pats my head for a moment before walking over to somewhere else in the kitchen.

"Emily? Emily, where are—? Ah, there you are." I hear Edward say, I turn around and see him. The evil, evil man... I turn away from him and rest my chin on my arm. "What's gotten you all upset?" He asks me to which I ignore, I glance over at Maggie; hoping she can save me some trouble.

"I'll go refill the bucket..." I mumble before standing up and grabbing the bucket before heading into my room to get changed into some proper clothes.

***

I'm walking along the path, feeling the stares that people gave me when I would walk past. What is this? Why are people looking at me like that? I hang my head down but that was ruined when I hear someone call on my name; I look around to see George rushing over to me.

"Hi, Emily!" He tells me with some excitement in his tone, I give him a small smile.

"Hi." I reply to him, still upset about how I can't seem to write; I sigh lightly, before I hear him speak up.

"I read your poem." He grins out, "I... loved it." He chuckles out, lightly. I nod my head slowly.

"Thanks, George... but..." I sigh, "my dad, he's... he's really mad at me." I express to him, he sighs lightly.

"Oh, come on, it was pure genius. He has to agree with that." George tells me, I scoff at this; turning my head him.

"Well, I wouldn't know as he slapped me then left." I express to him before trying to walk away quicker, his eyes fall to the ground before they light up and he jogs lightly to catch up to me.

"Wait, Emily. Emily, how did he find out? I'll tell him that it's all my fault—"

"It doesn't matter anymore, what's done is done." I butt in, he looks at me apologetically, sympathetically. However, it brought me no comfort. The only comfort I wish for either comes from Sue... or Death. More specifically, Miss Death. I wonder who her newest visitor is...

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